


Things That Go Bump in the Night

by Ariaprincess



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cannibalism, Child!America, Child!Canada, Gen, Murder, Oliver is a creepy fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariaprincess/pseuds/Ariaprincess
Summary: There's an old house in the woods, home to a creature all the children in the village nearby are warned never to go near. The Pink Man is a demon, they tell them, a monster. However, they couldn't be farther from the truth. He's just a man. A man with a passion for blood.





	Things That Go Bump in the Night

The house Oliver lived in was old and smelled of rotting pumpkin.

Granted, he had lived there for quite a long time, and looks could quite often be deceiving. People used to look surprised when he told them that he lived there; his bright, colorful appearance just didn’t match up with the gloomy, old exterior of the house. However, he didn’t really talk much to people, nowadays, anyway. 

He quite liked it that way, too. 

The woods he dwelled in was right next to a village, one with many families and a spacious church. The town believed in demons quite a bit, and thus Oliver was not allowed within the very outskirts, shunned by the population. He didn’t mind, of course, he had better things to do with his time. He only had to wait before the next couple of playthings, too curious for their own good, came scampering into the woods, trying to find the mysterious Pink Man who lived in the old house. 

Oliver loved working with children. 

...

“A-Alfred, are you sure this is a good idea?” Matthew whispered, his tiny legs trying to keep up with Alfred’s longer ones. 

“Yeah, why not? I’m so bored, and Papa said we could explore!”

“But do we have to go looking for the Pink Man? Daddy said that we shouldn’t!”

“Since when do you listen to our old man?” Alfred called back, running deeper into the forest. The night was slowly breaking through, showing itself in a gorgeous sunset. Matthew stopped and stared for a few minutes before Alfred told him to hurry up. 

“Alfred, it’s getting dark! Papa will be looking for us!”

“I don’t care! I want to see the Pink Man! He’ll probably be old, and wrinkly, and-”

“Tut tut, is that how your parents taught you to talk about your elders? It’s awfully rude, you know.”

Alfred and Matthew stopped in their tracks, frozen. They turned, slowly, to see a spry, young man that looked to be in his early twenties standing there, looking a little bit cross. 

“S-sorry, mister. Are you t-the Pink Man?”

“I suppose that’s become my little moniker over the years.” The man sighed, then smiled. “How can I stay cross at two adorable little children? Come with me and I’ll make you something to eat. Little ones shouldn’t be out at night, you know.”

“Alright.” Alfred said, still a little scared. He didn’t _seem_ like a devil, just looked a little... unusual. 

“H-hey, mister?” He asked, as they began to walk. “Why do you live out here all alone in the woods?”

“Alfred!” Matthew hissed, but the man just laughed. 

“It’s alright, poppet, I expected him to ask. Well, young man, it was simply because I looked different. Different usually means evil to them, you know. A man who looked like I do simply was not meant for a town like yours.” The man ran a hand through his strawberry locks. 

“I-I think you look pretty...” Matthew murmured, still a little nervous. The man blushed, smiling.

“Well, thank you! That’s awfully nice of you.” He looked like he was about to say something else, then gasped.

“Where are my manners? I haven’t even told you my name! You two can call me Oliver, poppets, okay?”

“Okay!” Alfred said cheerfully. “I’m Alfred, and that’s Matthew. He’s shy.”

“Aw, you don’t need to be scared, I won’t bite.” Oliver said, taking hold of Alfred’s hand with one hand and Matthew’s in the other. “Look! This is where I live! Don’t be scared of it, poppets, it’s just an old house.” 

Alfred gasped when he saw the old, broken-down mansion; Matthew began to sniffle. Oliver took no notice and led them up the front steps, then through the door.

The inside of the house was clean, bright, and spacious, nothing at all like the exterior. Oliver told them to sit down at a white dining table while he went and made some hot-chocolate in the adjacent kitchen. Alfred swung his legs as he sat patiently, while Matthew fretted and wrung his hands.

“I don’t like him, he looks scary. We shouldn’t trust him, Alfie!”

“Don’t be such a fraidy-cat, Mattie! He looks nice, and he’s even making us food! I like him, and his hair is pretty.”

“Pretty hair doesn’t mean that he’s a nice person, Alfred.”

“Can we just stay a little longer? Please? I’m hungry and it’s dark outside. There could be ghosts!” Alfred whined and whinged until finally Matthew gave up trying to persuade him. 

“Fine, but if we end up dead it’s gonna be your fault.”

“Dead? Who’s going to end up dead? Certainly not you two, I hope.” Oliver re-entered the room just as Matthew finished his sentence, holding a tray. On the tray were three mugs, two of hot chocolate, one of tea; and a plate of delicious looking cookies. 

“Eat up, you two! You look half-starved.” Oliver told them, setting the tray down. Alfred almost immediately launched himself at the cookies, while Matthew was more polite and only took one at a time. Oliver watched them as the plate slowly began to empty itself and the mugs began to drain, sipping at his tea and smiling.

“That was delicious! Thanks, mister!” Alfred said when the tray held nothing but a few crumbs. Matthew nodded, his head drooping. 

“No problem! It was my pleasure. Now, let’s get you two into bed. I’ve got a spare room you two can sleep in.”

“Sleeping here?” Alfred looked confused. “But what about going home?”

“Home?” Oliver looked confused. “I thought you were going to stay with me? Well, I suppose, you can go out into the scary forest, with all the ghosts and ghouls and-”

“Okay! We can stay here! Just don’t make me go out into the forest!” Alfred yelped. Matthew didn’t say anything, as he was already fast asleep. Alfred’s eyelids were also beginning to close. Oliver scooped Matthew up in his arms and took Alfred by the hand, leading them through the old house until they came to a yellow-painted door.

“This will be your room for tonight. Come on, in you go.” 

The room only had one bed in it, but it was certainly big enough for two little boys. Oliver helped them into the sheets and tucked them in.

“Good night, boys, see you in the morning!” He chirped softly, watching them sleep. He closed the door softly, then strode briskly into the kitchen. 

“A little sleeping tonic does wonders, eh?” He thought to himself, chuckling. He ran his fingers against the kitchen wall, stopping when he reached the knife rack. He let his hand linger on a few of the biggest kitchen knives before selecting a cleaver, the blade only slightly stained with red. 

“This will do perfectly.” Oliver said to himself. With a bounce in his step, he returned to the yellow painted door, opening it softly.

“Good night, boys. Sleep well. Sleep forever.” Oliver chuckled at his words. They sounded like something out of a cheesy horror movie. No matter, he had a job to do. He walked over to the side of the bed where Alfred slept, a tiny bubble of drool leaking out of the side of his mouth. Oliver wrinkled his nose.

“Disgusting. This one did eat a little too much. He’s nice and plump, though, he’ll do well.”

The cleaver swung downwards.

...

Oliver hummed as he changed the sheets, removing the ones that were stained red and still slightly sticky. The smell of cooking meat wafted through his house, a delicious smell that would make even the pickiest of eaters sit up and beg. 

 

They would come looking soon, but Oliver wasn’t worried. He knew that everybody would be too scared to go in the Pink Man’s house. If they did, well, his knives were sharpened. 

Oliver finished tucking in the sheet corners and stood. He had done a good job, and was quite hungry. 

_No matter,_ he thought, _I have a wonderful roast cooking in the oven._

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thank you for reading this! Kudos and comments are much appreciated :)


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